


Strange and Simple Rules

by LarissaFae



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Bisexual Character, M/M, Muslim Character, POCecil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1240033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarissaFae/pseuds/LarissaFae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos is bi, but has never been with a man before. Carlos has a daughter. Carlos needs to balance his work, faith, family, and new love interest. Carlos is in for a headache.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Schalakitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schalakitty/gifts).



> This is for Schalakitty, who is wonderful.
> 
> Smut will be noted in the chapter it occurs in.
> 
> Title from a Suzanne Vega song.

"So, here's Doctor Muhammad, to tell us more about his team and why he and his team are in our little town," the olive-skinned mayor said, stepping to the side and handing the microphone to Carlos. He took it with a nod and faced the crowd, taking a deep breath.

"Thank you very much, Mayor Winchell. Good afternoon, everyone. I'm Doctor Carlos Muhammad, the head of the Night Vale research team. Night Vale is …" Someone - probably Lupita - snickered behind him, but Carlos ignored them and stuck to his flash cards. Public speaking was easy when he had a script to go off of, and Lupita was their unofficial PR person. She always wrote his public announcements for him. He wasn't exactly _bad_ at public speaking, but he _did_ tend to switch between the five languages he knew when he didn't have a written anchor. His team had stopped trying to transcribe his notes years ago. In any case, the town seemed friendly enough, in the standoffish and wary-of-strangers way that small and isolated communities had. Carlos was eager to start their research, but as he ended the town meeting and stepped off the stage, a small, elderly Taiwanese lady stopped him in his tracks. It wasn't the tray of corn muffins she held out that stopped him, it was the leather jacket and tattoos up and down her arms, the victory curls her white hair was in, the red bandana that was wrapped around her head and tied in the front. She had fire engine-red lipstick and thick black cat eyes and looked like she could kill him with the comb in the back pocket of her denim jeans. He wasn't sure she realized that the 50s had ended, but he wasn't about to tell her.

"Have a corn muffin, dear," she commanded sweetly. Carlos took one without thinking and popped it in his mouth. Her smile broadened. "I'm old woman Josie. How do you like it?"

"Uhm … good," he said quickly, then swallowed. It needed more salt, actually. "It's good. Thank you."

She gave him a Look. "No, it needs more salt. But the angels took all the salt I had, you know, and I haven't had the time to get more. They needed it for a heavenly mission."

"Oh. They do that, I suppose."

That made her laugh, and she patted his arm. "You're a good boy, I think. You'll come over for tea tomorrow afternoon, won't you, and meet my grandson. He's a sweet boy. I think you'll like him."

Carlos nodded slowly and tried not to frown. It sounded like she was trying to set him up on a date. He was used to aunties at the mosque throwing their daughters and nieces at him, and even friends trying to set him up with people, but no one had tried to set him up with another man before. Not in public, at least. It was refreshingly strange.

She patted him again. "Good, good. You like bikes? You can look at mine. She's a beauty. Oh, Imam al-Mernissi, Coach al-Mujaheed. You'll want to say hello, I suppose. I'll see you tomorrow, Doctor. I'm out back of the car lot. You have a good night, and welcome to Night Vale." She turned and sashayed off, giving a tall black man in a Boy Scout troop leader uniform a hearty whack on the rear. He yelled in surprise and whirled, then his shoulders slumped when he saw who had accosted him, letting her pull him down for a sound kiss on the lips.

Carlos grinned at that and turned to the couple who had walked up. The man was tall and built like a tank, with a beard halfway down his chest and a kufi that matched the team colors of the school jersey he wore. He grinned, his teeth white against his swarthy complexion, and held his hand out. " _Assalamu alaikum,_ brother!" he boomed cheerfully. "I'm Nasr al-Mujaheed, and this is my wife, Jannah al-Mernissi." He reached down and slung his arm around his wife's hips, lifting her up a good foot, foot and a half as she laughed. She was wearing a yellow khameez over dark blue skinny jeans and black leather boots whose heels gave her an extra four inches of height, at least. Her square hijab was tied at the base of her neck, and her long hair flowed free under it.

"Nasr! Let me down. _Assalamu alaikum,_ Doctor." She shook his hand, too, as he tried not to gape. "My husband coaches football at the high school. I'm the local imam. I hope we'll see you tomorrow for Jummah?"

Carlos blinked. " _Assalamu alaikum._ Uhm. I think, I don't know, we're going to be really busy for a while, and old woman Josie ---"

"Wants you to meet her grandson, of course." Imam al-Mernissi grinned. "She always wants the boys to meet him. He's a good man. Are you single? Any kids? We have a great youth program - Oh. Do you go to the mosque?"

She rolled her eyes at the question she should have asked first, and Carlos nodded automatically. "Yeah, of course. I mean, I go to the mosque as much as possible. I, uhm … Yeah, no, I'm single, but I'm not really looking, you know? There's a lot to do here. In fact, I should go. We really need to get set up before dark …"

She nodded. "Of course. Hannah! Lucy!" Two women in matching uniforms stopped and looked over. "Come here! Just one moment, Doctor Muhammad. Hannah, Lucy, this is Doctor Carlos Muhammad. Hannah and Lucy own the local ice cream parlor," she explained. Carlos nodded.

" _Salaam,_ " the ladies said at the same time, then grinned fondly at each other and linked arms.

" _Salaam,_ " Carlos replied.

"Your lab's right near the shop, I think," Imam al-Mernissi went on. "Just stop by there if you need anything, or directions to the mosque."

"Thank you," Carlos said as he shook everyone's hand. "I really appreciate your hospitality. Sisters, brother. Have a good evening. _Assalamu alaikum._ "

" _Assalamu alaikum!_ " the four chorused as Carlos turned to the exit.

Lupita was waiting for him and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Carlos, huh? Did you notice the men in black suits and ear pieces at the back of the room?"

They got in his car. "Yeah. I'm well-acquainted with government agents. A name like 'Ayman Muhammad' raises red flags everywhere, especially when I fly out to the Middle East. 'Carlos Muhammad' gets raised eyebrows, but … It's mainly a game of what sort of discrimination I want to face at that particular moment."

"At least your parents gave you a non-Muslim middle name."

Carlos rolled his eyes. "They gave me a non-Arabic middle name. Any name with a good meaning is a Muslim name."

"Yeah, whatever," Lupita mumbled. "You know what I meant. Is the government going to bother us?"

"I don't know why it would. We're not doing anything illegal. Then again," he went on as he looked up at the sky and what the mayor had called 'the void,' "we've kind of entered the Twilight Zone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, ok, I guess you all need Arabic translations. Here's the Arabic used up through chapter 3:
> 
> SubhanAllah - glorious is God (expresses amazement)
> 
> Shirk - associating partners with God (the one unforgivable sin in Islam)
> 
> Ya Allah - by God/my God/oh God
> 
> Wudu - ritual washing before prayer
> 
> Shalwar khameez/dupatta -  
>   
> The shalwar is the pants, the khameez is the top, and the dupatta is the scarf - which Muslim women wear around their heads when they pray. 
> 
> Assalamu alaikum (wa rahmatullahi wa barakatu)/salam - (God's) peace (and mercy and blessings) be with you/peace (basically hello)
> 
> Wa alaikum salam - And (peace) also (be) with you
> 
> Khutba - sermon
> 
> ṣallā Allāhu alay-hi wa-sallam - peace be upon him (said after the Prophet Muhammad is mentioned)
> 
> Bi'dah - religious innovation (adding things of religious significance to existing religious practices, such as saying it's a religious obligation to take the Sacrament)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos meets the angels and Cecil.
> 
> I trusted the internet for the Vietnamese - if it's wrong, please forgive me and please correct me.

Lupita shoved a fresh lab coat at him. "Hey, don't you have tea with that old woman? The one with the angels?"

"Yeah, she invited me over, but ---"

" _No._ You _have_ to go, Ayman. This is a _huge_ opportunity to observe these people. I know you're not a cultural anthropologist, but this is still really important. This is an entirely new culture, Ayman. You _have_ to go."

She was pushing him out the door and he groaned. "Why can't _you_ go in my place? And please use 'Carlos.' It's less confusing for people."

"Because _you_ were invited. _You. Specifically._ This is your chance to make us look good, _Carlos._ People like you. Didn't you hear the broadcast last night? They _don't_ like the rest of us. I don't know what weird effect you're having on this town, but we need to use it to our advantage. So go, all right?"

She had a point about the town apparently only liking him in particular. He'd watched the entire auditorium's attitude change the moment he'd grinned nervously at the end of his speech, from vague hostility to outright worship. The radio host's recap of their arrival hadn't helped matters - Carlos was the the butt of yet more jokes amongst his team. It was all right, he mused as he drove to old woman Josie's house. He'd devised ultimately harmless retaliations for all of them, and was adding more to his list as time went on. They'd all regret taking advantage of his easygoing nature and teasing him.

He reached old woman Josie's place before he could descend too far into mad science-filled, petty plans for revenge - although building their own generator _was_ a good idea, and he scrawled it on a Post-It note and pressed it onto his visor - and parked amidst the various broken-down cars, trucks, and motorcycles that littered her yard. There were also lawn gnomes and pink flamingos, various plants that were both domestic and wild, and the empty rocking chair on the porch creaked in the same wind that set the multitudes of wind-chimes tingling and clanking and … honking? The place seemed deserted, at any rate.

That was, until Carlos opened his door and put one foot on the ground. Then he nearly screamed when what could only be described as heavenly music boomed all around him, and a choir of angels started singing as they rose above the squat, one-story house. A literal choir of angels. _Angel_ -angels. Carlos stared. Yes, true to the broadcast, they were about ten feet tall, winged, radiant, and the black one was apparently the choir leader. They were all beaming with literal angelic serenity and every one of them had a small hand harp they were playing.

Carlos stared, slack-jawed.

"All right, you worthless fucks, I hear you! I know! I heard the car!" Old woman Josie's shouts preceded her around the side of the house. "You don't have to do that with every single visitor! You! Scat!" Then a shotgun blast shattered the heavenly music and the angels squawked and dropped below the house in a flurry of feathers and wings. "Damn nuisances," the old woman muttered as she rested her shotgun over one shoulder. She was wearing skintight jeans and a black leather vest with tassels over a short-sleeved blue blouse with white polka-dots. A matching bandana rested around her victory curls, and she spat on the ground at Carlos' feet when she got to him. "Well? You coming in? My boy's here already."

Carlos just continued staring as, one by one, the angels all started poking their heads around the house to watch him. Some of them were even laying on the roof. They all looked disgruntled, and chirped curiously as he put his other foot on the ground. The chirping spread as he got out of the car slowly, until they were all chattering up a storm. Old woman Josie brandished her shotgun again, and the chittering subdued, but didn't quite go away. As Carlos walked with her up to the house, the black one followed. Was it … smelling him? It was. It was sniffing at him. And its fingers ghosted over his hair, his lab coat. It also opened the door for them when they got to it, following them in and picking up a tray set for tea. It offered Carlos a sugar cube.

"Well, go on, take it. They want to be friends with you."

Carlos was feeling rather numb as he reached out cautiously. The angel's quiet chirping turned into a pleased purr, and its smile broadened. As soon as their fingers brushed against one another, he felt a shock go through him, a jolt, a swelling and a filling, a heart-constricting _Presence_ that he only got when he was deep in prayer, or when he'd gone on Hajj two years previously, or when he was in an especially religious mood and reading all the translations of the Qur'an and commentary and biographies that he could.

" _SubhanAllah,_ " he breathed as he stared at the angel in awe. It cooed like a dove and dipped its head, looking from the sugar cube to him expectantly. Carlos gently slid the sweet cube into his mouth and the angel stepped back with a happy chirrup before ushering him to the couch.

"Yes, yes, you're very nice, thank you," Josie told it as she settled into a rocking chair and picked up a cross-stitch project. Then she raised her voice. " _Cháu!_ Hurry with those cookies!"

Carlos recognized the voice that floated from the kitchen. "Coming, _Bà nội!_ " And yes, Cecil from the radio station came scurrying out of the kitchen right behind his voice, wearing pink oven mitts and a teal apron that said "Hot Stuff" on the front in a swirly font. He was wearing leggings with donuts all over them, and an oversized sweater with cat pictures all over it. The look he gave Carlos was pure adoration, and he opened and closed his mouth several times before licking his lips and speaking. “Uhm, hi again. Thanks for coming over. _Bà nội_ invites everyone over.” He set the cookies down nervously and then sat, adjusting his sweater over his knees. “You look nice. Very scientific.”

“Uhm,” Carlos said. He scrambled for something polite to say about the other man’s outfit. “My … niece … would like your sweater.”

Old woman Josie just hummed to herself as Cecil made them all tea, grinning widely. “Oh, you have a niece? So do I. How old is she?”

“I’ve got several. Big family. Uhm, she’s about eight? Thank you,” he continued when Cecil handed him his tea. He took a sip and smiled. “This is really good.”

“I told you you make good tea, _Cháu._ ”

Cecil was definitely blushing, tilting his head down and looking up at Carlos through his lashes with a shy smile. “Thank you. You’re Muslim?” He pointed at Carlos’ neck when he blinked in surprised. “Not many non-Muslims have the last name ‘Muhammad’ or wear ‘Allah’ on their necks.”

Carlos touched his silver necklace and laughed a bit. “Oh. Right. Uhm, yes, I’m Muslim. Is that … a problem?”

“Oh, not at all. We’ve got a couple of mosques - you met Imam al-Mernissi, right? She’s the imam of the largest mosque. Their bloodstone circle is quite impressive.”

That gave Carlos pause. “Bloodstone … circle? I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of one of those. What is a bloodstone circle, if I may ask?” A thousand angry sheikhs flooded his mind, shrieking about religious innovation and _shirk,_ and he resolutely pushed them aside as Cecil lit up and stood, gesturing for him to follow.

“Oh, they’re beautiful! I’ll show you _Bà nội’s._ ” Carlos followed him to a clear corner of the room, where a circle of half-sphere stones lay on the floor. They looked like orbs of venous blood mingling with green ichor, above a starry sky. They _were_ beautiful. Carlos was no geologist, but he recognized them as heliotropes, and knelt down to get a better look. Cecil knelt next to him, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

He didn’t touch them. He wanted to, but this was clearly a religious shrine of sorts, just big enough for one old woman to kneel in. The half-spheres at the cardinal points were the largest, decreasing in size to the ordinal directions. Each direction had an additional arm of bloodstones coming out of it, each one in a different pattern. Carlos remembered that he’d brought his camera and dug it out of his cargo shorts, looking to Cecil for permission. “May I take a few pictures?”

“Of course.” The man seemed inordinately pleased by the request. “Wow. Science is pretty amazing, right?”

“Mm-hmm.” Carlos snapped a few pictures and then saw the half-full bag of bloodstones. He turned to old woman Josie. “Ma’am, if it’s all right, would I be able to take a bloodstone back to study …” He trailed off at the silence that descended, and the stiff look on Cecil’s face even as old woman Josie cackled to herself and kept her attention on her cross-stitch.

“Uh, that’s … a little fast, don’t you think?” Cecil asked nervously. Carlos frowned at him. “I mean, you just met _Bà nội._ ”

Understanding was attempting to dawn and Carlos quickly backtracked. “Oh, no, nothing like that. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that … it was a thing. My apologies. I should have asked beforehand. I just … these are fascinating, and I’d like to study them. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I didn’t realize …”

“Oh, give him a bloodstone,” old woman Josie finally laughed. “He’s not from Night Vale. He doesn’t know any better. Besides, it’s been a while since anyone’s asked for one of my bloodstones, and he’s such a handsome young man. Let an old woman have her fantasies, _Cháu._ ”

“ _I’ve_ got bloodstones, too,” Cecil muttered under his breath. Carlos bit back a smile as he took the small bloodstone that Cecil handed him from the bag. He clearly hadn’t meant to be heard.

“Thank you. I promise, I’ll bring it back as soon as possible.”

“Oh, keep it as long as you need.” Old woman Josie was clearly needling Cecil as she fanned herself and looked Carlos over. “Why, think of the scandal this will cause. The handsome young scientist, the worldly older widow …”

“ _Bà nội!_ ” Cecil got up and frowned at his grandmother. “Carlos is an outsider. Sharing bloodstones doesn’t mean for him what it means for us.” He got laughed at, and sat on the couch again in a huff.

“Our cultural anthropologist will want to know more about your faith,” Carlos spoke up as he took his seat again. “Ah, maybe we could schedule an interview with you, Cecil?”

That made the man sit up and smile brightly. “I’d love to! I can come over after the show tomorrow night. Should we do it at the lab, or that house you’re all renting?”

He was an attractive man, attracted to _him,_ and Carlos had been single for a while. An interview at the house would be borderline unprofessional if Carlos were there. He cleared his throat. “The lab will do just fine. I’ll, uh, contact you and let you know when the best time for us would be.” He took a bite of cookie and smiled. “These are good, too.”

Cecil beamed at him. “Thank you. You’ll be doing the interview?” he asked hopefully.

“Uh, no, our cultural anthropologist —” Cecil’s face fell and Carlos hurried on before he could change his mind about the interview. “But I’ll be there. Around. Doing stuff. Science. Doing science. I can give you a tour.”

To his credit, Cecil hid his obvious disappointment well. “Oh, that sounds absolutely lovely. What do you think of our humble little town so far?”

“Oh, it’s fascinating.” Carlos launched into all the ways that Night Vale was fascinating, from a scientific point of view. He was pretty sure that he lost Cecil very early on, but the man was as easy to talk to as he was to listen to, even if he did have some odd notions regarding what passed as science. Carlos started warming up to him, delicately ignoring his subtle and not-so-subtle hints about dinner, even as he tried to keep in mind that he was having a strange effect on the townsfolk. It wasn’t until what had to have been an hour later that old woman Josie finally declared that she was going to have a nap, and that Cecil had to go to work, and that Carlos probably had some work to do, as well - such as standing around looking good, maybe lose the lab coat and shirt, thank you, he must be so overheated in that flannel, and no? oh well, one couldn’t blame an old woman for trying, but really, the angels needed their afternoon nap and so did she, so scoot, boys, scoot or she would give them such a whooping they’d never walk right again, thank you kindly for the company, dearies.

Outside at Carlos’ car, Cecil shuffled his feet and looked at the scientist shyly. “So, uh …”

Carlos opened the door and then shoved his hands in his pockets. “Thank you for … for all the information.” He looked anywhere _but_ at Cecil. No man had been _this_ openly infatuated with him before.

“You’re welcome. Oh! Here, let me give you my number. You know, if you need any help, ever want to go get something to eat … Anything, really.” Carlos pulled his phone out and nodded as Cecil told him far more digits - and symbols - than should have been in a phone number. They stood awkwardly for a few more moments before Carlos got in the car and said goodbye, leaving Cecil standing there, watching him drive off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, ok, I guess you all need Arabic translations. Here's the Arabic used up through chapter 3:
> 
> SubhanAllah - glorious is God (expresses amazement)
> 
> Shirk - associating partners with God (the one unforgivable sin in Islam)
> 
> Ya Allah - by God/my God/oh God
> 
> Wudu - ritual washing before prayer
> 
> Shalwar khameez/dupatta -  
>   
> The shalwar is the pants, the khameez is the top, and the dupatta is the scarf - which Muslim women wear around their heads when they pray. 
> 
> Assalamu alaikum (wa rahmatullahi wa barakatu)/salam - (God's) peace (and mercy and blessings) be with you/peace (basically hello)
> 
> Wa alaikum salam - And (peace) also (be) with you
> 
> Khutba - sermon
> 
> ṣallā Allāhu alay-hi wa-sallam - peace be upon him (said after the Prophet Muhammad is mentioned)
> 
> Bi'dah - religious innovation (adding things of religious significance to existing religious practices, such as saying it's a religious obligation to take the Sacrament)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am trash garbage for putting in so much Arabic I'm so sorry but _you don't understand that's what Muslims do omfg any word we **can** say in Arabic, **we do.**_
> 
> Anyway, here, have a new chapter. Carlos and Rochelle go to Jummah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, ok, I guess you all need Arabic translations. Here's the Arabic used up through chapter 3:
> 
> SubhanAllah - glorious is God (expresses amazement)
> 
> Shirk - associating partners with God (the one unforgivable sin in Islam)
> 
> Ya Allah - by God/my God/oh God
> 
> Wudu - ritual washing before prayer
> 
> Shalwar khameez/dupatta -  
>   
> The shalwar is the pants, the khameez is the top, and the dupatta is the scarf - which Muslim women wear around their heads when they pray. 
> 
> Assalamu alaikum (wa rahmatullahi wa barakatu)/salam - (God's) peace (and mercy and blessings) be with you/peace (basically hello)
> 
> Wa alaikum salam - And (peace) also (be) with you
> 
> Khutba - sermon
> 
> ṣallā Allāhu alay-hi wa-sallam - peace be upon him (said after the Prophet Muhammad is mentioned)
> 
> Bi'dah - religious innovation (adding things of religious significance to existing religious practices, such as saying it's a religious obligation to take the Sacrament)

“How was it?” Carlos rocked back on his heels as his youngest grad student accosted him at the door, nearly vibrating with excitement. “ _Ya Allah,_ we’ve found _so much cool stuff!_ ” She clutched her hands to her chest as she squealed and spun in a circle. “Are we going to Jummah? Dave said I could go if you were going. He says I have to have a chaperone. He says we all do, for the time being. Are we going?”

“Of course not,” Carlos gently scoffed. “Jummah’s over by now. I was gone for …” He trailed off at her sudden frown and then looked at his watch. They had time to make it, actually, despite how long he _knew_ he’d stayed at old woman Josie’s. “… Oh. Uhm. Yeah. We can go. Just, uhm, _wudu_ …”

She punched her fist in the air. “ _Yeah!_ ” Then she squeezed past him and ran to his car, hopping up and down at the back passenger door as she waited for him.

Lupita just laughed as Carlos tried to process the encounter. “Rochelle’s _very_ excited to be a part of the team.”

“Uhm … yes … What’s her specialty, again?”

“Cultural anthropology.”

He grinned suddenly. “Excellent! The radio host - Cecil - did anyone get his last name? - is coming over after his show tonight for an interview about the local religion. It’s fascinating. I brought back a bloodstone; can you run some tests while I’m gone? I’ve got to go before she bursts.” He handed the bloodstone over very carefully, and started explaining what he knew of its significance as he headed to the bathroom to clean up. Lupita leaned in the doorway. “Oh, and apparently they’re a relationship indicator? So if you want to study more, be sure you make sure to stress that it’s for scientific research only, and you don’t mean any disrespect, and —”

“Yes, yes. Basically, don’t be _you_ about it. Got it. Go before Rochelle runs there.”

Carlos made sure his kufi was on straight, ended up borrowing some bobby pins to keep it on his curly tuft of hair, made a note to get a haircut soon, and hurried out to his Coup, where Rochelle was waiting. Her lab coat was hanging at her elbows, but when she saw he hadn't removed his, she pulled it back on and buttoned it.

They were on their way when she looked over at him shyly. "Uhm ..."

He glanced at her with a grin. "Hmm? What's up?"

"Is it ok that we're alone?"

He bit back a laugh. Converts. "Yeah, it's all right. I'm not interested in you and you're not interested in me. We're adults, and we have self control. But we don't have to talk if you don't want to. Just because _I'm_ ok with being alone with a woman doesn't mean _you're_ ok with it."

She frowned as she thought it over. "Well ... If it's about work, I think it's ok? Because we're not talking about personal things? There's a real good reason for us to talk?"

Carlos nodded. "That works for me. So. That radio host, Cecil - he's coming over tonight after his show. I want you to interview him about the local religion, all right?"

"All by myself?" Rochelle squeaked. Then she cleared her throat. "I mean, yeah, of course. If you think I can do it."

"I'll be there, too," Carlos reassured her. "And so will the others. After we get back, I'll tell you what I know - it isn't much - and help you think of some questions. Cecil's very eager for the interview. Plus, I wouldn't have asked you to join the team if I doubted you could do your job."

That made her smile all the way to the mosque. It was stunning - it had a large green dome with two smaller domes to either side and one in front, all with a golden crescent on them. The building itself was red and cream, with five pillars supporting a large half-circle balcony in the front. As Carlos parked and they got out, the people heading in gave him sunny smiles and salams. They gave Rochelle suspicious looks. 

"Ah, Scientist, there you are!" Coach al-Mujaheed's booming voice reached them moments before the brick wall of a man did, sweeping Carlos up into a bear hug that popped his ribs. "I knew you'd make it! Come, come, let me give you the tour."

"After the khutba," his wife told him firmly. She was wearing a green and black patterned shalwar khameez with the matching dupatta covering her hair fully. "Doctor, I'm glad you could make it. And this is ... ?"

The effect he had on others definitely didn't extend to his team. Carlos put a protective hand just over Rochelle’s shoulder. "One of my team members. Imam al-Mernissi, Coach al-Mujaheed, this is Rochelle Freeman, a grad student and the team's cultural anthropologist. Rochelle, Imam Jannah al-Mernissi and her husband, Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed. Rochelle is a convert."

There was a moment of silence before Imam al-Mernissi smiled again and kissed Rochelle’s cheeks three times. "Well. _Assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatu,_ sister. Come, come, it's time to start." They were led upstairs, and Imam al-Mernissi looked over her shoulder. "Do you prefer to pray with the group? Or separated?"

"With the group," Carlos answered. 

"All right. The left dome is the private area for the brothers, the right is for the sisters. If you're neither a brother nor a sister, your private area is the last small dome. The big dome is for everyone. Men on the left, women in the right, everyone else in the middle." Each domed area was a separate room, and Rochelle and Carlos were looking at each other in surprise not just over two separate areas for men and women both, but also the one for non-binary people, as well as the prayer layout. Imam al-Mernissi was walking to the front of the prayer area before they could ask questions. 

"Later," Carlos told Rochelle as he followed Coach al-Mujaheed to the men's area. She drifted to the women's side, her attention drawn more to the gigantic circle of bloodstones that surrounded the prayer hall than anything else. It followed the same general pattern as old woman Josie's, though the smaller spirals were different. Rochelle gave him a worried look, but he shrugged and sat to listen to the sermon. They'd worry about the validity of their prayers later. 

Imam al-Mernissi sat in a small yet ornate padded chair in the center of the three groups, smiling out at her congregating. She leaned toward the microphone and started the khutba in Arabic, then switched to English once the introduction was done. "My dear siblings, I begin in the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful, Lord of the Worlds and Master of the Day of Judgement. My dear siblings, I greet you with the greeting of Islam - _assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatu_ \- Allah's peace and blessing be upon you and your families, as they are upon the Prophet, _ṣallā Allāhu alay-hi wa-sallam,_ and his family. My dear siblings ..."

By the end of the khutba, Carlos was ready to have an existential crisis. Imam al-Mernissi had talked about blood space wars, the Void, the importance of faith and where to find its physical location in the body, and when they prayed, he didn't recognize the chapters she recited at all. He'd memorized the Qur'an - what she recited _wasn't_ the Qur'an. But it had the same rhythm and flow, the same poetry to it. No one seemed to notice that it was wrong. He recited two chapters to himself once he realized she was using an entirely different Qur'an than he was familiar with, and though he tried to leave immediately after, he was accosted by Coach al-Mujaheed and two older women.

"How did you like it?" The coach ignored his stammers. "So, brother, are you looking for a spouse? The aunties wanted to know. I told them you weren't, but you know aunties."

Carlos laughed. Yes, he knew aunties. They'd throw their daughters at you so fast you wouldn't see it coming until you were signing the marriage contract. "Ah, thank you, but no. I'm not looking for a wife."

"What about a husband? Sister Zaynab's son is single." Carlos shook his head, mumbling about science and work to hide his shock. "A spouse in general?"

"No, afraid not. I don't know how long we'll be in town. Ah, excuse me, brother, sisters, but I have to get back to work. _Assalamu alaikum._ " Carlos escaped and he and Rochelle headed back to the lab. "That was ... interesting."

"Was the bloodstone circle _bi'dah?_ "

"I don't know. We'll pray again at the lab, just in case."

Rochelle hummed. "It sure was interesting, though. I need to ask about the significance of it."

"Old woman Josie had different smaller spirals. I have pictures." He handed her his camera and she grabbed it with a small squeak of excitement. By the time they'd gotten back to the lab, they'd worked out a good list of questions for that night.


End file.
